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“Maybe it’s nobody’s fault.”
He sighs again and looks up. “I don’t know. I carry a lot of shame over it.”
“Neither of you knew what it was like being that famous.”
He runs his fingers over my waist, slipping one hand under the shirt to rest on my hip. “I didn’t, that’s true. But when I realized, I started being real careful about who I signed. I’ve always been upfront about it when I have an inquiry, but most people will do anything for their big break.”
“Do you hate that I want mine?”
“No. There’s something beautiful about someone doing what they were born to do. I think the new generation is going in with their eyes open more often. It used to hit you like a freight train. And once people know your face, you can’t go back.”
I touch his face, his short beard prickling my fingers.
“Do you wish you’d made a different choice?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, but I’m not on stage. I get the benefit of making money without having to be torn apart online daily for every choice I make.”
I’m quiet, thinking hard. Everything he’s telling me is scary, but it’s not anything I didn’t know after living with Coen for a year. I know how terrifying going into such an exposed industry can be, at least, secondhand. But there’s still this spark in me, this hunger to feel what I feel when it comes to my music, but on a large scale.
On a stage, where the world is silent.
Where I can speak and be heard.
I lean in and kiss him. “Thank you for talking to me.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. “You’re easy to talk to.”
Sinking in, I let my head rest on his chest. His heart thumps slowly. His chin rests on my forehead. My racing thoughts and the nerves that always sit in my chest slowly slip away, like I’m borrowing his steel nervous system for a second.
The sun is high now, but I don’t want to leave the hotel.
Maybe we should stay together, just for another day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JAMIE
I’m feeling exposed, but I don’t run from it like I usually do. Instead, I sit with it, her body in my arms. My phone has been off all morning. My emails are piling up; my texts will take me days to catch up on. I don’t care. Right here, in this room, I’m at peace.
“Will you go away with me?”
The words come out before I can bite them back. Her body tenses. I think she’s going to sit up and glare. Instead, she sits up, looking thoughtful.
“What do you mean?”
“Just go away with me for a few days,” I say. “I want to feel like we’re a couple.”
Her brows crease.
“But we aren’t,” she says, eyes guarded.
“Indulge me,” I beg. “A few days in Nashville, or maybe Lexington. We could do normal couple things. Not worry about the future.”
Her lips purse. “Alright.”
“Where do you want to go?”
She shrugs. I reach in my pants pocket and take out a quarter. “Heads Lexington, tails Nashville.”
